


It's about time

by imagine_pink



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Hanzo Shimada, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, M/M, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Young Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-11 10:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagine_pink/pseuds/imagine_pink
Summary: After the Overwatch recall, thingsreallywent downhill.All in all, through a series of events, Hanzo is sent back in time to (hopefully) prevent everything from turning into hell.





	1. Prologue

“Are you ready love?”

Hanzo grunted and gave a quick nod, peering down the ledge of the building they were currently crouched on top of. The cold wind numbed his face, whipping his hair around which created a stinging sensation whenever it flicked him in the face. Hanzo decided he quite liked the pain, it kept him focused in the present. 

“This is it, our last chance.” Winston said grimly. “I hate to sound dramatic, but the fate of humanity rests on our shoulders.”

“We heard ya the first time you gave that speech, love. Get in, destroy the God Program, get out,” Lena quipped bouncing around the roof. 

Hanzo grimaced – leave it to her to still be optimistic and upbeat even in the face of certain death. It was a miracle that she had not changed a bit given everything that happened. She still wore the same old pilot jacket underneath her chronal accelerator along with those same old ridiculous orange pants of hers. Hanzo remembered that he had once commented that they were not suited to stealth to which she replied that it was the only way she could still feel like her old self again. 

Hanzo had not bought up the subject since. 

“This will be for all of them,” Winston announced in a sombre tone. 

Hanzo turned his head to observe the scientist. In contrast to Lena, Winston looked nothing like the first time that Hanzo had seen him. He looked tired, battered down with grey patches of fur growing in dispersed around his body. Perhaps the most significant change was the gnarly scar that started from his eye and spread across the entirety of the right side of his face. 

Hanzo looked away. A lot of things had changed since he joined. He ran his fingers along the string of his own bow, a vibrant red colour that clashed with his clothes. After Storm Bow had snapped in half, he had chosen the new colour to remind himself of- 

No.

Don’t think about that. 

“For all of them,” Winston repeated, taking in a huge shuddering breath. “For Angela, for Lucio, for Mei, Genji and Je-“

“Enough.” 

Hanzo saw Winston freeze and Lena turn to him with a look of disapproval on her face. He took in a deep, steady breath and exhaled.

He softened his tone. “There is no time for the dead. We must focus on the living.”

He heard Lena let out a sigh. He knew she was disappointed in him. 

“I’ll go check on the others to see if they’re in position and then I’ll give the signal,” Winston mumbled, turning around and ambling off to other side of the roof. 

Silence fell upon them once again. Hanzo clutched his coat tighter around his shoulders. He wished he still had that serape, the thing had been so warm. He regretted burying it. 

Lena scuffed her shoe, breaking the silence. 

“You know,” she said giving out a little huff, “you’re not the only one who misses them.”

Hanzo closed his eyes, trying to suppress the guilt at was starting to gnaw at his insides. He knew that Winston had lost just as much as him, grieved just as much – perhaps even more. They all did. 

Seeing that she wasn’t going to get much of a response from the man in front of her, Lena sighed and turned to face Winston instead who was making his way over to rejoin them. 

“Everyone’s in position. We’re ready to go.”

Hanzo straightened up. 

“For all of them,” Hanzo murmured, refusing to make eye contact with the scientist. 

It was terrible apology. 

“For all of them,” Winston repeated and Hanzo swore he could almost hear a smile in his voice. 

“For all of them,” he heard Lena echo before she launched herself off the building. 

\-------------

Hanzo swung his bow with all his strength, knocking an omnic robot into the wall of the tunnel. He grabbed an arrow form his quiver, stabbed it into the omnic causing sparks to fly as the omnic convulsed before finally going limp. After confirming that the omnic was indeed dead, he ripped out his arrow, nocked it and let it fly loose watching it bury itself into a Talon agent that had crept up behind Winston who was further up ahead occupied with ripping an omnic’s head off its shoulders. Hanzo fought to catch his breath as he heard something explode behind him – probably Lena’s doing. 

“I think that’s the last of them, love.” 

Hanzo nodded. He noticed that she too was panting and leaning against the wall for support. They had been fighting through these tunnels for hours trying to reach the God Program. The plan was for Morrison’s group to draw out majority of the God Program’s forces to the front in order for Hanzo, Lena and Winston to infiltrate the building and destroy the program from within. However, as soon as the three of them had stepped into the tunnels they had been swarmed with omnics and human agents forcing them to fight with all their might. 

“Let’s keep moving chaps,” Lena encouraged, pushing herself off the wall. 

Hanzo forced himself to take a step forward even though his legs were screaming for a break. They were nearly there – Hanzo could feel a cool breeze wafting through the tunnels. Maybe, just maybe Tracer was right and they would end up going home after all. 

They walked for a few minutes in silence, each trying to conserve their energy. The breeze that Hanzo noticed before was getting stronger and stronger, accompanied by a loud whooshing sound. He briefly wondered if they had taken a wrong turn somewhere and were heading outside instead of deeper into the building. 

Suddenly the dark tunnel widened out and filled with light. 

Hanzo nearly dropped his bow in awe as the he took in the sight before him. Similarly, he heard Tracer gasp beside him. 

The tunnel had widened out into a massive hall with marble walls and a glass ceiling that seemed to stretch to the skies above. Natural light filled the hall which Hanzo couldn’t even begin to describe how that was possible. First of all, to his knowledge, it was still dark outside, and second of all, they were a couple of hundred metres underground. 

Still, the uncanniness of the place didn’t stop there. Down the middle of the hall was a large marble walkway and on either side flourishing gardens from all over the world could be found. Water fountains peppered the gardens, some self-contained, others forming little rivers or moats with matching little bridges to allow people to cross over. There were stepping stones scattered throughout, miniature water wheels turning lazily and meticulously carved wooden benches nestled comfortably amongst the blooming flora. Hanzo swore he could hear birds chirping even though there was not a feather to be seen.

At the end of the walk way, stood a statue on top of a pedestal that reminded Hanzo of the classic Greek sculptures he once saw in a museum. A gold hoop with engravings encircled the Greek statue, turning methodically on a vertical axis generating the cool breeze Hanzo had felt in the tunnels. 

“Huh,” Lena remarked, “that’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Winston asked. 

“The gold circle thing kinda reminds of-”

Suddenly the eyes of the statue illuminated with an eerie blue glow, and the lights of the hall dimmed. 

“Hello friends,” a calm electronic voice rang out through the hall. “My name is Aion.” 

“We are not your friends,” Winston growled out. “You killed our friends.”

“My apologies for your loss,” the voice continued amicably as if it was not the sole reason for the gaping hole in Hanzo’s heart. “Perhaps today you might get the chance to avenge them. But before you do that, do you mind telling me how you managed such a feat? For curiosities sake.” 

He could hear Winston answering the God Program about their decoy battle and how Hanzo, Tracer and himself had fought through the tunnels. The situation reminded him of a complaint that Jesse had about all the villains in the old movies they had watched – _just shoot them in the damn head! Why would ya monologue and let them escape?_

Except they were the ones giving a monologue. 

It was odd that there were no other defence measures set up to protect it – no omnic soldiers, no Talon agents, absolutely nothing. Usually, when they confronted God Programs, there was chaos, mayhem as the AI put forth all its might to prevent its own destruction. But not this one. It seemed rather nonchalant for a being that was going to be destroyed. The whole situation was bizarre and it set Hanzo on edge. 

Hanzo decided he had had enough. He drew an arrow from his quiver. He was going to end this now. 

“No need for such hostilities, friend. I just wanted to have a nice chat before I died, to see where I went wrong,” the God Program said, turning its attention to him. 

The voice sounded calm, but Hanzo could feel an underlying panic. The golden hoop stopped spinning and began charge up, crackling with electricity. 

Hanzo drew back his bow string and summoned his dragons. A thunderous roar echoed throughout the hall as they answered his call. 

The last thing he saw were his dragons hurtling down the hall towards the God Program, crashing into the electricity with a loud boom, before a bright light consumed him.


	2. New Beginnings

Hanzo woke to a sound of someone knocking on wood. He opened his eyes and was met with a harsh glare of sunlight. Instinctively, he shut his eyes and threw his arm up to block out the bright light. He groaned, turning to his side and burying his face into his pillow. He heard a door being slid open as more sunlight entered the room. 

“Young master?” a feminine voice asked. 

Hanzo’s eyes flew open as he scrambled into a sitting position. He had not been addressed that way in decades. In Japanese, no less. 

“Young master?” the voice asked again, footsteps drawing closer. “Are you alright?”

Hanzo tensed, trying to keep his breathing under control. His heart was a lost cause and was pounding madly against his chest. 

Suddenly, he realised something. 

He could feel his _calves_. He could feel is _toes_ digging into the bedding beneath him in a way his prosthetics would never enable him to do. Ripping the covers off, he could only stare in shock at his own feet which wiggled his own toes back at him. 

“Young master?” 

He turned towards the voice and blinked dumbly when he recognised the face staring back at him. He couldn’t remember her name, but he did remember that she was one of the girls who worked as a maid back when he was still with the clan. 

Looking around, she was not the only thing he recognised. He recognised the cupboards, the painting hanging on the wall, the stand where his sword and bow rested – the badly folded green origami crane sitting next to its much more immaculate blue counterpart. 

He recognised this room. 

He recognised _his_ room. 

He threw himself out of bed, tripping over his own feet as he rushed to his closet, sliding the door open with such force that it rebounded against the wall with a loud thud. Shakily, he reached into his closet for the mirror that he knew would be there. 

The person looking back was not him. 

Or rather it was still him, just not the way Hanzo remembered. His hair was longer now, stopping half way down his chest, his body carried a lither frame, his face was younger – a whole two decades younger (in retrospect, it was odd to think of his older self as ‘before’ and his younger self as ‘now’). 

“Young master?” she called uncertainly. “Would you like to get ready? I bought your clothes for this afternoon.” 

Hanzo spun around. Folded over her arm was a black suit. Hanzo only remembered wearing a black suit once in his life time. 

“It’s my father’s funeral today isn’t it?”

There was a pause between the two of them. 

“Yes,” she answered finally, although Hanzo noticed she sounded unsure as to why she was being asked in the first place. 

Had he travelled back in time? That was absurd. Yet here he was, standing in his twenty-eight year old body attending his father’s funeral for the second time in his life. How was this even possible? Was this just a dream? He knew that Tracer had the ability to go back in time, but that was for three seconds not twenty years. 

Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t even noticed he started pacing. 

He had gone back twenty years, was the first coherent thought that entered his mind. The second was – 

Genji. 

With that thought he turned and rushed out of his bed room. He could hear the girl calling out to him as he ran down the hallway. 

When they were younger, he and Genji had rooms neighbouring each other. However, as his younger brother grew older, he started going out more and had relocated to the opposite of the castle so that the morning sun would not wake him. Hanzo had let him do as he pleased with a snide remark that at least this way he wouldn’t have to listen to Genji’s nightly activities. 

Now, Hanzo regrets not putting up more of a fight. 

Finally, he came to a stop in front of a set of paper doors, panting and out of breath. His hands trembled as he reached out to slide the door open. What if his brother was still dead? What if he had travelled back twenty years in time but things were still the same?

Shaking, he stepped inside the room quietly as if a single noise could mean the difference between life or death. 

A lump beneath the blankets stirred and groaned. A peak of green emerged from the blankets. 

“Leave me alone,” the lump moaned, tossing and turning before settling down in a comfortable position. 

“Genji,” Hanzo whispered, not quite believing his eyes. 

“Brother? What are you doing here?” Genji sat up rubbing his eyes and scratching at the back of his head. “If you’re here to lecture me, save it. I shouldn’t have been out drinking, blah, blah, blah. I know, okay? Just leave me alone.”

“Genji,” Hanzo said again, this time louder. Walking slowly towards the bed. It was odd seeing his brother as he remembered him, with green hair and an expressive face not covered by the cyborg face plate. This Genji had not known the pain of having his own brother try to kill him. 

“Did someone hit you over the head? Or did the clan elders finally get their wish and turned you into the robot you were always destined to be? Wanna try saying something else other than my name maybe?”

“Genji,” he murmured, coming to a stop in front Genji. He reached out and his heart clenched when Genji instinctively recoiled.

Undeterred, he reached out again. This time, Genji did not shirk back, but stared defiantly up. When he finally placed his hand on top of Genji’s head, it was like someone had come in with scissors and cut the strings holding him up. He collapsed on top of Genji, clutching desperately at him and burying his face into Genji’s shoulder. 

He could feel the wetness burning in his eyes. He wanted to tell Genji how happy he was, how relieved he was – all his feelings of guilt, regret and sorrow he could feel coursing through him. Instead he clutched at Genji tighter and willed him to understand. 

Genji held Hanzo back, not quite sure what to do – he had never seen his brother cry before. Eventually he settled for stroking his brother’s back and praying that would be enough. They laid there quietly, with Hanzo cradling Genji’s head, repeatedly running his fingers through the green hair. 

After what seemed like hours, Hanzo broke the silence. 

“I had a terrible dream,” he said as he felt Genji shift in his arms, interest peaked. “I had a dream that you had died. I watched as they lowered your body into a grave and threw flowers on top of your casket.” 

“Did a lot of girls come, brother?” Genji asked with a cheeky grin. 

“Do not joke.” 

Genji, sensing the seriousness of the tone, fell silent. 

“How did I die?”

Genji’s tone was more solemn this time. 

Hanzo chuckled weakly as he struggled to find an answer. The first time he saw Genji die, he had been the one to murder him in selfish rage. The second time, he was being torn limb from limb by a mob of omnics and Hanzo was helpless to do anything but watch. How could he possibly answer that question?

Instead, Hanzo chose to say nothing. 

A knock sounded at the door. 

“Young master? It’s time to get up.” 

Genji groaned, untangling himself from Hanzo’s grasp as he rubbed his face. The knocking persisted, this time louder. 

“Young master! You have to get up! Your father’s funeral starts in one hour!”

The order was followed by more insistent knocking which soon turned into a loud banging. 

“I’m up, I’m up!” Genji yelled back, using his legs to fling the blankets off them both. 

Genji muttered grumpily under his breath, stretching out his limbs and cracking his back. He hopped out of bed and started making his way to the closet. 

“Have you seen your brother young master? No one has seen him since this morning.” 

Genji opened his mouth to reply, before snapping his mouth shut. There was a pause as Genji stopped mid step as if deliberating whether he should go through with something that he had thought up. 

Suddenly, he turned around, clutching at his heart and with a dramatic voice whispered, “Go brother! Leave me here – save yourself!” 

Hanzo snorted, which turned into a chuckle and like a snowball rolling down a hill soon turned into full blown peals of laughter. Genji gaped at him, body shocked motionless. Hanzo felt like he should stop laughing to ease the worry that had begun to set into Genji’s features. 

But he couldn’t stop. 

The euphoria he felt at seeing his brother, still breathing and cracking jokes was too much. Instead, he laughed and laughed – until his stomach started cramping and the laughter had started turning into heaving sobs. 

“Brother, are you alright?” Genji asked as his face loomed into Hanzo’s field of view. 

Hanzo reached up and cupped his brother’s face. 

“I love you, Genji – and I will always, always have your back.”

He saw Genji’s eyes widen and just for a moment Hanzo was reminded of a time when they were younger and Hanzo had taken the blame for a vase that Genji had knocked over. It was the same expression he had worn back then – the initial surprise followed by the understanding that this was a person he could trust and count on. 

The moment was lost as Genji averted his gaze and sorrow descended upon his features. He bought his own hand up, placing it over Hanzo’s. 

“Do not make promises that you cannot keep, brother,” he murmured as he withdrew from Hanzo’s grasp, dislodging the hand on his cheek. 

Hanzo’s hand hung in mid-air uselessly as he watched Genji walk further and further away. Had Genji already decided to leave at this point? He had always assumed that Genji’s departure was a spur of the moment decision. Had Genji been thinking about leaving for years and Hanzo just never noticed? Had he not been able to change anything?

“I mean it Genji!” He heard himself yell, voice laced with desperation. 

Genji paused before looking back over his shoulder. 

“Of course, brother.” 

\--------

It had been a surreal feeling to attend his father’s funeral for a second time. 

The first time, he had been wracked with anxiety and grief. Hands clenched into fists by his side, mind racing around trying to decide how he should carry on the Shimada legacy. His father’s death had been so abrupt – when Hanzo imagined taking over the empire, he had pictured himself being older and wiser, with his father by his side to guide his ascension. It had felt like a rug had been pulled out of him and everything that had once seemed so far away suddenly loomed overhead sapping all his confidence and energy away. He had practically begged the elders to give him guidance – _‘you have always led my father on the right path, I look forward to having your guidance in the future’._

Perhaps it was the fear that made him so susceptible to the elders’ suggestion to murder his own brother. Combined with desire to earn the respect of the elders and the anger he had felt for Genji for never being present – it had all accumulated into a writhing monster which consumed and blinded him from the truth. 

This time, he was in control.

A calm settled over him as he listened to the priest perform a chant to aid in his father’s spirit journey to the underworld. The elders, who Hanzo had once regarded as shinning pillars of wisdom now looked frail and old – years of bitterness and scheming had eaten away their humanity. The words they spoke used to weigh heavily on Hanzo’s mind. He used to contemplate their words for pearls of knowledge and unspoken lessons. Now, he couldn’t help but feel a sickening slimy feeling every time they opened their mouths. 

Staying here was not a choice. 

Hanzo was not a fool. 

He knew a second chance when he saw one. This was his chance to prevent that future from ever happening. 

To protect his brother. 

To prevent his friends from dying.

To save the world. 

The only question was how. Tuning out the outside world he began to assemble the facts that he knew.

One. He had travelled back to the year 2066. This possibly had something to do with the God Program that called itself Aion. 

Two. The only other person that Hanzo knew who had control over time was Tracer. Hanzo remembered her saying something about Aion, but could not recall exactly what it was. Could Aion also have something to do with her chronal accelerator or the experiment she was in? Had that already happened? No. She joined Overwatch a year before it blew up and was only in chronal dissociation for a year. If the explosion happened in 2070 then the experiment must have happened sometime in the year 2068. 

Three. Talon’s rise to power could be contributed to a few factors: the recruitment of Sombra and Widowmaker – formerly known as Amelie Lecroix, the downfall of Overwatch caused by the rift between Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison which also caused the creation of Reaper. 

Hanzo sighed and rubbed his forehead, earning glares from the elders and a quiet snicker from Genji. 

There was just too much to consider and too many gaps in his knowledge. He was going to have to sit down and write down everything he knew and try and organise it into some sort of timeline. He regretted not pinning down Soldier:76 and grilling him about his exact relationship with Gabriel Reyes instead of letting him wallow in his misery. 

The last fact that he knew was also the fact that he had been vehemently avoiding thinking about. 

Four. He was and still is in love with Jesse. The possibility of seeing Jesse again was high – if he was going to try and mend the relationship between Morrison and Reyes, Hanzo would probably bump into him at some point since he was a constant at Reyes’ side. The thought of seeing him again scared Hanzo more than the possibility of impending doom. Would Jesse still fall in love him in these circumstances? Their initial relationship was founded from a combination of loneliness and stress from fighting a losing war. From what Hanzo remembered, Jesse’s Blackwatch days were some of his happiest. He was surrounded by friends who he regarded as family and for the first time he felt like he was doing something right by the world. 

Was it worth pursuing a relationship? Was it worth jeopardising the fate of the world for something so selfish? Would Jesse even need Hanzo if had his family and his friends? Perhaps it was better off if Hanzo kept some distance from Jesse, that way he could make decisions with an unclouded mind. 

Hanzo’s heart ached. 

“Young master.” 

Hanzo looked up. It was one of the elders – Soichiro Shimada, one of his great uncles. 

“We are all aggrieved by the passing of your father,” Soichiro began, pausing to gauge Hanzo’s reaction. Hanzo kept his face deliberately blank. “He was a great leader and guided us to safety in times of crisis. May his spirit rest in peace.” 

“Thank you for your condolences,” Hanzo replied, feeling an archaic anger resurface and gnaw at his belly. He knew what was coming next. He took a deep breath. 

“You have always lead my father on the right path, I look forward to having your guidance in the future,” Hanzo parroted the words he had spoken years ago. It worked. A sly smile broke over Soichiro’s face. 

“I know that this must be a hard time for you, young master. However, the world will not wait while we grieve our dead.” 

“I understand. Is there something you would like to talk to me about?” Hanzo asked, trying to not let any of his anger bleed out through his words. 

Soichiro cocked his head, as if contemplating something he had never seen before. Hanzo held his breath – this had not happened last time they spoke. Eventually, Soichiro shook his head and continued. 

“It is rather a sensitive matter, young master.” 

“Is that so?” 

“It’s regarding your brother.” 

Hanzo took a deep breath and schooled his face. 

“I understand. Father allowed Genji too much freedom and it has gone to his head. Please leave this matter to me – I will reign him in.” Hanzo hoped this admission would be enough to pacify the old man. He had no desire to hear the command again. 

“In times like these, it is important for the clan to present a united front. If your brother does not listen, it is your duty as clan leader to deal with him.” 

All at once, he felt rage consume his being. He wanted to lash out now, and break the man’s neck just for having the audacity to suggest that he should kill his own brother. This was immediately washed over by the shame that he had felt knowing that once upon a time he had listened to this man. 

“I understand. It is my duty and my burden.” Hanzo turned and started to head back to the cars not wanting to continue this conversation. 

“Hanzo,” Soichiro called out. Hanzo paused only so that he would not raise suspicion. “Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that your father passed – you seem to have grown up overnight.”

Hanzo sighed and looked up at the sky. It was annoyingly blue and clear for such a solemn day. 

“It feels like I have lived another life-time.” 

\-----------

Hanzo sat in his room and meditated patiently while he waited for the news to arrive. After arriving home, Hanzo immediately began making the necessary arrangements and preparations. Now, night had fallen and all that was left to do was wait. 

A loud pounding of feet on hardwood floor signalled the beginning. 

“Young master!” a clansman shouted, sliding his door open with such force that he nearly broke it in half. “The elders – Genji has run away! He killed the guards – they want you to go after him!” 

Hanzo thought that when the time came he would be nervous. Instead this was the most serene he had felt in his life, it felt like he was floating up above observing the on-going events. He saw himself stand up, gather his bow and a medium sized bag. He saw himself dismiss the clansman who questioned his choice of weapon and the presence of the bag with a wave of his hand. 

“Tell them I will deal with it,” he had said and left. 

He found Genji standing on a grassy hill, overlooking the run-down train station that was Hanamura’s only point of entry and exit. Flickering lights illuminated the deserted station, revealing the Shimada clansman hiding in the shadows, waiting for Genji to show. Behind them the Shimada castle loomed on the mountain side, a dark shadow against the starlit sky. 

Genji was the first to break the silence. 

“Have the elders sent you to kill me?”

Hanzo blinked, taken aback by the solemn and resigned tone. The Genji that he had met here years ago had been filled with anger and defiance – muscles tense ready to slice through everything that stood in his way. 

“Yes.” 

Genji let out a sigh and turned to face Hanzo. 

“Do it then. Kill me.” 

His face was filled with determination as if daring Hanzo to kill him. Hanzo returned the stare with equal resolve. 

“I will always have your back, Genji.” 

He saw Genji’s eyes widen before he turned around and drew an arrow from his quiver. He took a deep breath and summoned his dragons. 

His dragons let out a deafening roar as they barrelled towards the Shimada castle, twining around each other. Down below, he heard chaos erupt amongst the men guarding the station. 

“We should go, this will not hold them for long.” 

Genji smirked as he drew his sword as Hanzo notched another arrow, letting it fly and allowing it to find its target in the neck of some unfortunate clansman. 

“But where are we going to, brother?”

Hanzo threw one last smirk back at his brother, before charging down the hill. 

“Switzerland.”


	3. Job Hunting

“Brother – I’m bored,” Genji whined for the tenth time that day, dragging out the last syllable until he just ended up making nonsense sounds with his mouth. 

Hanzo took a deep breath in as he listened to Genji make weird siren noises – and exhaled slowly to centre himself. He had learnt the hard way that engaging Genji in this mood often just ended up making things worse. Even when they were little Genji would often annoy him into playing with him instead of meditating as he was supposed to be doing. Just like now, he would plead with Hanzo using different voices and pitches and repeating the same phrase over and over again until he finally gave in. Of course, the only person who would get in trouble back then was Hanzo and Genji would get away scot free with a shake of a head a bemused smile. 

_‘As the heir, you must learn to control yourself,’_ he heard his father’s voice echo in his mind. 

Hanzo scoffed. 

All that training in discipline and he still could not control himself when it mattered most. Back then he had resented Genji for the freedom their father allowed them – how he could do anything he wanted with no repercussions. As they grew older, the resentment boiled into fury – anger at Genji for never fulfilling his duties, anger at Genji for being so selfish, anger at Genji for not giving the slightest consideration about how his actions affected others. 

A thud broke him out of his reverie. He watched as Genji kick a nearby crate, causing a dust storm to stir and sending him into a coughing fit – drawing out a fond smile from him. All the things he was angry at Genji for seemed so trivial now. Perhaps if he had been wiser or more mature, he would not have been blinded by his anger and seen the pain that Genji had been in as well. He gave out a low chuckle as Genji finally seemed to exhaust himself and let himself flop on to the floor. 

“Hey brother,” Genji said after a while, staring vacantly at the ceiling. “What are we doing here?”

Hanzo cocked his head and frowned. They had been through this before. 

“It is for our safety.” 

He heard Genji growl in frustration. 

“That’s not what I meant – what are we doing _here_?” Genji asked, jumping back to his feet and jabbing dramatically at his surroundings. “For once in our lives we’re free – and what do we do? We hole up in a dusty old warehouse in Switzerland for days!”

He watched as Genji tried to kick a pebble in frustration – missing and nearly falling over from the sheer amount of force he used. 

“We could go anywhere we wanted! America! King’s Row! Numbani! Heck, we could even go to Lijiang if we wanted to!” Genji protested as he paced up and down the warehouse, ticking off the locations on his fingers. “You always said you wanted to try the dumplings there!”

Hanzo sighed as he listened to Genji continue to list off all the better things to do than to sit in an old dusty warehouse that smelled like their great-aunt Keiko. As much as he missed his brother’s carefree ways, it was times like these that he missed the more mature Gen–

Hanzo froze. 

He couldn’t believe the thought that just went through his mind. How could he think like that? Here he was, his brother whole and happy in front of him and he missed – the what? The older Genji who had to suffer through the trauma of having his older brother kill him? The Genji who constantly lived in anger for years and had to find salvation in a robotic monk? The Genji who couldn’t eat, couldn’t drink–

A pair of hands landed firmly on his shoulders jarring him out of his downward spiral. 

“So, tell me brother,” Genji asked solemnly, oblivious to Hanzo’s inner turmoil, giving him a brief shake, “what the hell are we doing here?” 

Hanzo flinched, not quite ready to face the subject of his thoughts. He pushed himself out of Genji’s grip and climbed to his feet and took some steps back to put some distance between them. 

“I told you,” Hanzo murmured turning away, “I have something I have to do here.”

“What?” Genji screamed, “What could you possibly have to do here?”

“It is something I must do,” Hanzo repeated. “It is my duty.” 

“Duty this, duty that,” Genji spat. “Your whole life has been about duty. What about your duty to yourself, huh? What about your duty to be happy for once?”

Out of his periphery, Hanzo could see that Genji had resumed his pacing up and down the warehouse, pulling at his hair as he went. Hanzo felt a wave of guilt crash over him. What could he say in return? All those places – King’s Row, Numbani, Route 66, he had already been there. Mei had even introduced him and Genji to the best dumpling house in Lijiang.

It was unfair of him to drag Genji into his mission, he reflected. Part of him wanted to let Genji go, so that he could travel the world and grow into the man he could have been. The other more selfish part of him wanted to keep Genji for himself – it felt like he had only just gotten his little brother back. It would be nice to be a team again. 

The motion of Genji throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation drew him back into the present. Realising that his brother was unlikely to answer his questions, Genji resumed his tirade. 

“Not only that – you’ve been weird ever since we left.” Genji cried. “Stowing away on boats, jumping on top of hyper-trains, falsifying documents – the archery! Where did you even learn all this stuff? Who even are you?”

Hanzo could hear Genji huffing and puffing, exhausted from his outburst. Footsteps approached him and he felt a hand gently grip his shoulder. He let Genji turn him around until they were face to face. 

“Please brother, just tell me, what are we doing here?” Genji begged, eyes darting around Hanzo’s face as if he could find the answers in his features. “Why won’t you tell me anything?” 

“Please,” Genji whispered, “just tell me. You can trust me.” 

Hanzo averted his eyes to the ground. 

The silence was deafening.

“Fine,” he snarled. “Be like that.”

And then he was gone. 

\------------------

Hanzo had called out him, asking him to wait, but Genji had always been the nimbler of the two – dashing outside in a flash. By the time Hanzo caught up, Genji had disappeared amongst the sea of uniform warehouses. Defeated, Hanzo returned to their temporary base and decided to wait there for Genji’s return. 

It was better to let him go, Hanzo decided. Sometimes all Genji needed was some time and space to work through his feelings – something the clan had denied him which in turn caused him to rebel harder. Whilst Hanzo preferred to deal with emotional turmoil through reflection and meditation, Genji’s emotions had always been strongly tied to his physical state of being. When he was angry, he would storm around the castle – slashing things with his sword. When he was sad, he would turn into a pile of goo that refused to get out of bed (Hanzo had personally witnessed this many times – the reason usually involving a pretty girl). When he was happy, he would prance around with such childlike glee that he left the women giggling and the men shaking their heads fondly. 

If he was being totally honest with himself, Hanzo was surprised Genji even lasted as long as he did. They had been cramped up in the warehouse for days and before that, they had been crouching in between carriages on hyper-trains or crammed between crates in cargo containers. This on-the-run lifestyle had not left Genji much wiggle room – it was no wonder he acted the way he did. Once he had some space and time to work things out, he would return. 

He had to. 

He could not _not_ return. 

Hanzo sighed as he sat down, deliberately shutting down that train of thought – it could lead to nowhere good. 

Genji would be fine. Although they were hiding here as a precaution, they were close enough to Overwatch headquarters that most bounty hunters would think twice before entering. In addition, despite being heirs to a large criminal empire, they weren’t officially criminals. Their records (fake and real) were clean as every other law abiding citizen – Overwatch would have no basis to arrest them on. 

He would be fine. 

Hanzo sighed, not quite able to convince himself. If there was anything he learnt in the past four decades of his life is that things will always find a way to go wrong. 

He took a deep breath in, straightened his posture and tried to centre himself. There was nothing he could do but to trust that Genji would return. Instead he tried to turn his mind to a different problem – how to prevent the end of the world. Over the last couple of weeks, Hanzo had tried to think of different solutions – crossing them off one by one as they proved to be infeasible. 

One. He could march into Overwatch headquarters, demand an audience with Jack Morrison, inform him that Hanzo had come from the future and prove it by spilling a bunch of information that should be classified and hoping it would be enough to convince him. Whilst this was the most straightforward and probably the quickest approach, it was also the riskiest. The whole operation hinged on Jack Morrison and his ability to believe a total stranger had time-travelled from the future. If their situations were reversed, Hanzo probably would have the man thrown out the moment time-travel left his mouth. 

Two. Join Overwatch. Except, although he had a clean legal record, he doubted that Overwatch would be happy to let an heir of a criminal empire into their ranks. Hanzo couldn’t even begin to imagine the media storm that would follow – so that was probably out as well. 

Three. He could join Blackwatch. This seemed like the most logical path. He knew it was possible and Hanzo was happy to pay the entry fee in clan secrets. The only problem was he had no idea where their base was. He knew that had a lot of secret bases around the globe, but it could be years before he actually found one. 

Four. He could take down Talon and the God Program himself. As soon as it came to mind, Hanzo immediately dismissed it. Overwatch, both old and new could not do it, he alone definitely could not be able to – especially with the clan on his tail. 

Five. 

Five. 

Five. 

_Use your brain. Think._

Five. 

Hanzo blinked, sighing as he dragged his hand down his face. It had been like this for days – no matter how hard he thought, he just could not come up with another solution. At this rate, he was going to have to storm into Overwatch and pray that Morrison would believe him. 

Hanzo shook his head, that was not an option. It was unfair of him to place this burden on him. His brother deserved a chance to live freely and enjoy his life for once. The more honest part of him admitted that his decision also stemmed from the fact he didn’t want to confess to his brother that he had tried to kill him once a upon a time. 

An owl hooted outside, stirring him from his thoughts. 

_Strange,_ he thought. Owls rarely came so close to the city. 

He stood up, stretching his muscles and cracking his back – letting out a satisfied moan when he heard his spine pop. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not even realised that it had grown dark outside. It was getting late. He glanced towards the door, hoping that Genji would return soon. Although Genji had come home much later than this while they were both in Hanamura, he could not ignore the gnawing sense of unease that was growing in his stomach. 

Hanzo sighed again. 

Genji would return – all he had to do was be patient and wait. 

\----------

Genji had not returned. 

The weather had made a turn for the worse. The skies were crying torrents of rain, creating a constant drumming sound as each droplet hit the tin roof of the warehouse. The deafening noise did nothing to calm Hanzo’s nerves. His unease had turned into a full-blown panic by now and had manifested itself in the form of furious pacing. Hanzo tried to reason with himself – it was highly likely that Genji was just waiting out the rain in some bar somewhere. Yet, Hanzo couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom roiling in his gut – the fact that he could see Genji’s sword propped against a crate did not ease his anxiety. 

He had to find Genji. 

Making up his mind, he grabbed Genji’s sword and collected his own weapons. As he swung his quiver over his shoulder he made a mental note that he was running low and grimaced as he picked up his bow. 

The sleek bamboo piece gleamed in his grip. 

He sighed as he gripped his bow tighter – he missed Storm Bow. He had been using it for so long that he had forgotten that a sword had been his weapon of choice prior to leaving Hanamura. Although he had not used his sword to kill Genji this time, the thought of picking it up again caused a visceral feeling of revolt. His current bow, however, was a traditional Japanese bow and was not designed for modern combat. It was less powerful than Storm Bow – the range which he could shoot targets had shrunk and the delicate design left him open in close quarters combat. 

He flipped the hood of his jacket up bracing himself for the brutal weather (Genji had been so shocked when Hanzo first pulled it out, claiming that he didn’t even know that Hanzo owned normal clothes). Taking one last glance at the warehouse, he cracked the door open and stepped outside. 

It took exactly seven seconds for Hanzo to be completely soaked through. The rain pelted down mercilessly – even through his jacket was relatively padded, he could feel the droplets pounding down, turning the flesh underneath numb. 

Blinking furiously against the rain, Hanzo gathered his jacket closer around him and trudged forward. He would start with the bar district and work his way from there. 

\----------

Nearly an hour and a half later, Hanzo was standing on top of a roof in the rain, ready to give up. He felt so stupid for even deciding to step foot outside the warehouse in this weather condition. Genji was smarter – he was probably in a hotel somewhere, warm and curled up in bed. The only upside was that the rain had lightened from downpour to steady shower.

Hanzo shivered, watching his breaths come out in little white puffs against the cold air as he contemplated what to do next. It would take way too long to head back to the warehouse which meant that he should find a room in the city to rest for the night. The only problem was he couldn’t show up at the front desk with a sword and a bow. Maybe he could leave it here on the roof, find a room and come back in- 

A loud crash stirred him out of his thoughts, followed by a muffled sound of glass breaking. 

_Please let it not be Genji,_ he prayed as he spun around and sprinted in the direction of the noise. 

As he drew closer, he could hear the distinct sound of people exchanging blows. His feet skidded on the rooftop as he came to a sudden stop, slipping a bit on the wet tiles. He peered over the edge down into the alley where he could hear the fighting was taking place. When he saw the familiar smudge of neon green, he swore his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. 

There was Genji, surrounded by six men – dressed head to toe in black tactical gear, faces obscured by matching black helmets wielding batons that cackled with electricity. 

It looked like the clan wanted to take them in alive. 

Not missing a beat, he drew an arrow from his quiver and shot the one closest to his brother in the chest. The man staggered, not quite falling – the sight causing the other men to look frantically around, shouting and pointing. He took advantage of their confusion and released another arrow, finishing off the first man and shot another in the neck as they all scrambled for cover – three darting to the dead-end side of the alley and the other to the exit. 

Tossing Genji his sword and trusting that he would be able to take care of himself, he ran along the roof top to hunt down the runaway before they could call for back-up. Instead of running for cover as Hanzo thought he would, the idiot had run into the middle of the road – making him an easy target. Just as he was about to fire, a bang resonated throughout the night. The loud noise startled him, causing his aim to slip – catching the man in the leg instead of the chest. Despite being shot the man managed to use the last of his strength to haul himself into an alley and disappearing into the darkness. 

Hanzo cursed, turning around and running back to check on Genji. He would come back for that man later. 

He let out another curse when he realised that he only had three arrows left in his quiver. 

He would have to make each shot count. 

He spotted Genji being pinned down by two of the men – his sword lying a few feet away along with another crumpled body. One of the men pinning Genji, raised his arm to knock him out. Hanzo took aim at the man and shot. His target must have caught the glint of the metallic arrowhead just in time, causing him to dive sharply towards the left to dodge it. Out of his periphery, he saw Genji take advantage of Hanzo’s distraction to buck his remaining assailant off him and scrambled for his sword. Hanzo nocked his second last arrow, determined to finish the man who had the audacity to dodge – leaving the other for Genji. 

The next few seconds felt like they happened in slow motion. 

He saw Genji reclaim his sword off the ground, performing a pivot that most people would deem impossible. He saw his brother’s sword arc up gracefully and slice cleanly through the neck of his attacker sending blood splattering onto the alley walls. At the same time the man who dodged pulled something sleek and silver out from behind his back. He felt himself release his arrow – bow vibrating in his grip as his arrow soared towards his target. Before the arrow could find its mark, however, the other man raised his arm and fired three shots into his brother. He saw his brother’s body jerk from being hit. In the meantime, his arrow had also found its target, imbedding itself into the man’s right shoulder, forcing him to drop his gun and stagger backwards into the alley wall. 

Time resumed its normal pace as all three figures crumple to the ground. 

Hanzo leapt off the roof into the alleyway. He took a quick glance at his brother – who seemed to be breathing but unconscious and refocused on the task at hand. He only had one arrow left – he wanted to be close enough to make sure the man would not be able to dodge. As he stalked closer he saw that the man was taking laboured breaths and clutching at his wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, mixing with the rain water diluting it into a pinkish colour. Hanzo drew back his arrow as he took his final step.

He felt his foot connect with an object, kicking it into Hanzo’s line of sight. 

He glanced down. 

It was the man’s gun. 

A silver revolver with a wooden handle adorned with a tiny little spur. 

Hanzo’s eyes went wide when he realised what it was, causing him to instinctively lower his weapon. 

Movement caught his eye as another object skidded to a stop at his feet his feet, spinning around lazily in circles. He stumbled back, trying to put some distance between the man and himself as he realised his mistake. A loud bang echoed throughout the alley and Hanzo threw his arms to protect his eyes from the bright light. The last thing he felt was a hard blow to the back of his neck and then his world went dark. 

\------------------

The first thing Hanzo realised when he woke up was that he was _cold_. His clothes were still soaked and made a wet squelching sound every time he shifted. His hair was wet as well, clinging uncomfortably to his neck and face. His fingers felt numb and stiff protesting loudly when Hanzo tried to move them. The second thing he noticed was that his hands were handcuffed in front of him, the chain threaded through a sturdy metal loop that was welded to the metal table he was currently slumped over. 

Hanzo took a deep breath in to calm himself before gingerly propping himself up into a sitting position. The change in altitude made his vision swim – his whole head felt boggy and weighed down. Working his jaw, he felt the remains of dried up drool crust irritably against the corner of his mouth. He tried to wipe it off, but ended creating more of a mess as the wet fabric smeared more water across his face. Hanzo grimaced.

Hanzo sighed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the back of the metal chair he was sitting in. The cool metal eased the headache that was starting form between his temples. 

Hanzo opened his eyes, blinking furiously when his vision took longer than normal to focus. Taking a deep breath in, he gathered his strength and straightened his posture. 

Looking around the room, he noticed that it was empty apart from the metal table and chair he was sitting in. The walls and floor were made from concrete and the only entrance and exit appeared to be a heavily reinforced metal door on his right. The last thing he noticed was a large mirror embedded into the wall directly opposite him. Hanzo would bet his life that it was a one-way mirror. 

It was clearly an interrogation room. 

Hanzo steeled himself. He could do this. First, he would make sure Genji was safe and then– 

A loud bang echoed throughout the room as the door flung open, cutting off any consecutive thoughts Hanzo had. A man strode in, carrying a metal stool in one hand and a thick vanilla folder under his other arm. The man plonked down a stool on the other side of the table before opening the folder and slamming it onto the table – causing its contents to slide out. 

The man glared at him, jabbing a finger into the file. 

“Do you know what this is?” he hissed. 

Hanzo blinked owlishly back at the man. It had took all his will-power to not laugh deliriously – it was hard not to when the person he had been trying to find for weeks just strolled through the door like it’s no big deal. 

A palm slammed against the table causing the contents on the table to jump up. 

“I _said_ , do you know what this is?” 

Hanzo glanced down at the files. The colours whirled in front of him as he felt himself grow light headed. Still it was not hard to recognise the contents of the pictures. As he looked at the photos of him, Genji, his father and other members of the clan – Hanzo couldn’t help but wonder how some of these photos were taken without anyone noticing. 

Hanzo looked back up at the man who was looking expectantly at him – arms crossed in front of his chest making his muscles bulge against his jacket. It was probably an intimidation tactic. 

“Where is Genji?” he asked, voice hoarse with disuse. 

He heard the man snort. He watched as the man uncrossed his arms – placing both hands on the table and leaning in until their noses were inches apart. The man grinned, teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light. 

“You’re not the one asking questions around here, dumbass. Now answer my fucking question – and feel free take initiative and volunteer any information you think I might like too.”

“Where is Genji?” he repeated, holding his ground and praying that the man would just tell him so that he could ease his fears. 

It would be too cruel to lose Genji again just as he got him back. 

The man leaned in closer, annoyance written clearly in his features. 

“Last fucking chance, dipshit. Answer my fucking question.” 

Hanzo paused, wondering whether co-operating with the other man would get him the answers he wanted. Perhaps if he told him about the Shimada clan, his interrogator would be more open to divulging information about Genji. 

_‘The first rule of negotiating is to never make the first concession, darling,’_ he remembered Jesse telling him once. 

“Where is Genji?” he asked again, putting more force into his question. 

The man snarled, pushing away from the table. Not even bothering to gather up his file, he stormed out the room, slamming the door behind him. 

_And the second rule is always be prepared to walk out._

Exhausted he slumped back onto the table. He couldn’t care less if his captors were still watching him. 

He was cold and tired. 

As sleep begun to overtake him, he sincerely hoped that he had not screwed things up too badly – both for him and Genji as well as everyone else on this planet. 

His only comfort was that Gabriel Reyes did not seem like a man who would waste a good bargaining chip by letting Genji die. 

Probably. 

\--------------

After Genji had died, Hanzo had felt like someone had thrown him to the ground and shattered him to pieces – a sharp, sudden and all-consuming feeling. The loneliness that overcame him was unlike anything he had experienced before. When Hanzo had killed Genji, the loneliness had crept into him slowly and quietly. The feeling had been akin to the thick that would creep over Hanamura throughout the night and settle heavily in the morning. At first, he had been in denial, he had told himself he still had his family, the elders and the clan. It was only when he left that he realised that he was the only person left in the world that cared about his wellbeing. By then, he had become so accustomed to his solitude lifestyle that he was numb to his own loneliness.

His first instinct was to leave Gibraltar. He did not want to stay in a place where everything reminded him of what could have been. He wanted to run away from the pain – wanted to flee back into his old lifestyle where no one cared about him and he cared for no one. He had even packed up his belongings and made it as far the roof – where he had been planning on scaling down the walls and making a quiet exit. He had no reason left to stay. 

Had _no one_ who would want him to stay. 

The only thought that stopped him was that Genji wanted this for him. Wanted him to find redemption through honour by serving a greater cause. It was there that Jesse had found him, bag thrown haphazardly at his feet, staring out into the sea and drinking alone. 

Hanzo remembered being surprised to see him. Although they sometimes went down into the ranges to practice together, Hanzo would have hardly called them friends. Acquaintances or colleagues, if Hanzo was forced to place a label to their relationship. Still, Jesse had sat down next to him, as if they had known each other for years and silently keeping him company throughout the night. 

They started spending more time together after that. Whether it was because Hanzo enjoyed the cowboy’s company or whether it was because he did not want to be left alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t say for sure. But they grew closer as a result – swapping stories, trading jabs and learning each other’s likes and dislikes. 

Hanzo remembered the time when Jesse had offered to teach him how to shoot. He had played dumb for the first hour, pretending not to know how to hold a gun and even unloading a bullet backwards just to see Jesse’s face twist into incredulous surprise. When Hanzo got bored of his façade, he promptly turned and shot off Jesse’s hat who at that time had been standing a good thirty to forty metres away. Jesse had laughed and laughed when Hanzo had chastised him for assuming that an heir to a criminal empire would not know how to shoot a gun. _‘Ya got me there, partner’._

When Ana had died, Jesse had crawled into his arms – sobbing like a child who had just lost his mother at the mall. He had seemed impossibly small that night – sobs wracking his body from head to toe and tears flowing down his cheeks as he gasped for breath. Hanzo’s father had always taught him that crying was a form of weakness, that real men did not waste time on tears and that they should focus on solving their problems instead. But there was no way for Hanzo to solve death. Instead, Hanzo had held him through the night – stroking his side and murmuring soft reassurances into his hair. 

The touching began after that. 

An arm slung over his shoulders, a friendly clap on his knee – a hand at the small of his back guiding him through doorways. Whilst Hanzo had been unaccustomed to the constant touching, he also knew it was how McCree showed affection – to reject his touch was to reject his affection. So, Hanzo allowed it, occasionally returning the touch by patting the cowboy’s shoulder or pulling down his hat over his face when the teasing got too much. Jesse had always lit up like a light bulb after. 

Then, one night, Jesse had kissed him. It had felt so natural that Hanzo didn’t even register it until he had returned the favour, gently nibbling on Jesse’s lip. Eventually, Jesse broke the kiss, resting his forehead against his own. He could feel the brim of Jesse’s had poking the top of his head as they both fought to catch their breath. After what felt like an eternity, Jesse broke into a smile and pulled him into his room. They started sharing a bed after that night. 

Then, Jesse died as well. 

Hanzo remembered curling in their bed, unable to sleep and unable to deal with the grief inside of him. The loneliness was just as intense and just as cutting as the night Genji had died. But this time, there was no alcohol to numb his pain and no Jesse to soothe his wounds. Instead of accepting reality, he had closed his eyes and imagined a Jesse that was still with him, holding him in his arms and whispering encouraging words to him. He fell asleep soon after. 

It had been such an effective coping mechanism, that Hanzo begun to use it more and more frequently. Whenever he couldn’t sleep or when he felt really lonely, he would conjure up an image of Jesse and try to imagine what he would do or say. It wasn’t until Tracer had caught him talking to Jesse in the kitchen that he had realised it was starting to become an issue. The pity in her eyes alone was enough to convince Hanzo that this habit needed to stop. 

That night, he took Jesse by the hand and led him deeper and deeper into his mind. Zenyatta had been the one to teach him this trick. Always visualise the unseen, the monk had said, only then will things become clear. Granted, when Zenyatta had taught him this method, the purpose had been to help Hanzo visualise his grief and overcome it – not to bury a figment of his imagination. When they finally reached a sturdy metal door that Hanzo had conjured up in the deep recesses of his mind, he yanked it open and shoved Jesse through. Bolting the door shut, he could hear Jesse screaming and pounding on the door. Morbidly, he wondered when his imagination had gotten so creative. 

Now, as he gazed at the figure looming over him, Hanzo wondered whether he had done a good enough job that night. He shivered, curling tighter around himself. 

He felt so _cold_. 

As if the figure could hear his thoughts, he felt blankets being tugged up and tucked around him. As the figure went to retreat, Hanzo felt his hand shoot out, seizing the other person’s hand in his own. He felt the arm go rigid as the other person tensed. 

_Don’t go,_ he thought clutching the hand tighter and drawing it towards his chest so that the other person had to bend down to accommodate the pull. Hanzo looked up and the sight that met his eyes made his heart ache. Usually when Jesse appeared before him, he would be full of smiles and affection, but this time he was staring impassively down at him, annoyance clear on his face. Jesse had always been so warm in his affection and it hurt to see him this cold. _I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad._

_I missed you so much,_ he confessed, pressing gentle kisses against Jesse’s arm and nuzzling into the soft skin. Hanzo relaxed his grip on Jesse’s arm as he felt the resistance disappear. He sighed contently, nestling his cheek against the crook of Jesse’s elbow. 

_I love you,_ he thought as blackness overtook him again. 

\---------------

Hanzo woke to bright fluorescent lights, he reflexively shut his eyes trying to block out the light. He winced as he heard a chair scrape against the floor followed by footsteps thudding away from him. He groaned and tried to lift his arm – only to feel metal biting into his wrist as his arm was stopped in its tracks. 

Blearily, Hanzo opened his eyes looked down to investigate. The metal handcuffs gleamed in the light and clinked merrily against the metal railings of the bed as Hanzo gave a weak tug with his arm to test the resistance. Hanzo gave an internal groan – surely, there were better ways to restrain him. 

As observed his surroundings, he noticed that once again there were no other furniture apart from the bed he was lying on. He assumed it was to prevent him from being able to weaponize his surroundings. A pale green curtain had been drawn around him, cutting him off from the rest of the ward. The colour was so distinctive and universal, that Hanzo knew immediately that he was in a medical ward of some kind. 

The curtains parted and a petite woman stepped in. She had dark skin, dark curly hair and equally dark eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked kindly, shuffling in until she was next to Hanzo. 

“Water,” he heard himself croak out. 

She nodded disappearing through the curtains and returning with a plastic bottle. He watched as she fiddled with something at the end of the bed, and jerked in surprise when he felt the top half of the bed bending up so that he was sitting somewhat upright. She then scuttled towards Hanzo, unscrewing the cap and pocketing it in her lab coat. She tipped the bottle against Hanzo’s lips and Hanzo drank greedily. When he half of the bottle’s contents had disappeared, Hanzo turned his head indicating that he was done. He watched as she recapped the bottle, look around for a bed side table and upon finding none bobbed down and placed the bottle at her feet. 

“So, how are you feeling?” she asked again, taking out a pen and opening her clip board. 

“Good,” he replied, “a bit tired and sore, but otherwise fine.” 

“Well you developed moderate hypothermia from the rain,” she chirped happily flicking through her notes, “but we were able to get your temperature back up before severe damage could be done. Don’t worry, you won’t get sick – it’s actually a myth that being in the rain can make you sick. You can only really get sick from being infected with a virus or bacteria.” 

Hanzo watched as she continued to ramble on about how cold weather tended to make people congregate and _that_ was how diseases spread. 

“Thank you, doctor,” he said when she finally finished her lecture. “For your time and care.” 

“Oh,” she exclaimed, visibly brightening up. “Usually people assume I’m a nurse – even when I’m wearing a stethoscope. Oh, that’s nice, very nice...hmm…yes…oh, I like this one…” 

Hanzo nodded in bewilderment as she continued to mumble incoherently, tapping her lips with her index finger thoughtfully. Hanzo had learnt the hard way to not assume that all doctors were men – Angela had made sure of that. 

“Oh my potatoes!” she exclaimed. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Doctor Lewis – Ayana Lewis.” 

She picked up one of Hanzo’s cuffed hands and shook it enthusiastically causing the chain to rattle against the frame. 

“Well, hopefully I’ll be seeing you around – but not too much, don’t want yo-” 

“LEWIS!” 

The loud shout cut her off and she squeaked in surprise. The curtains were yanked back as Gabriel Reyes came into view. He gave a rough jerk of his thumb over his shoulder which sent Lewis running off muttering something about having ‘said too much’. He sauntered in, dragging a plastic chair behind him. He stood over Hanzo and gave him an unimpressed stare. 

Suddenly, a phone was being thrust into Hanzo’s face. 

Hanzo blinked as he refocused his eyes on the image being displayed on the phone. There was Genji, covered in bandages, resting peacefully on a hospital bed. Hanzo gave a sigh of relief. It was good to know. 

“Thank you, Commander Reyes,” he said, dipping his head into a bow. “I appreciate it.”

“Heh, at least you got some manners on you,” Reyes huffed, dropping down into the chair and kicking his feet up onto the bed, “unlike some ingrates I know.” 

“Commander Reyes, huh?” he continued not waiting for Hanzo to reply to his previous statement. “You figure out where you are then?”

Hanzo blinked. He knew he was being tested. Time to play dumb as to not rouse suspicion – but not too dumb that Reyes would think he was a total idiot. 

“Overwatch…?” he pretended to guess, “but not quite – Overwatch would never sanction a mission like this. Are you a subdivision?” 

Admittedly, the last bit had been pushing it a bit. 

Instead of being suspicious, Reyes’ grin widened – it reminded Hanzo of a shark. 

“So,” he began, ignoring Hanzo’s question. “What are two Shimada brothers doing so far away from home?”

Hanzo tried to recall what Jesse had said about Gabriel Reyes. Demands loyalty. Loves telenovas. Comes off as a hard-ass but secretly a huge softie inside. Can mouth word for word for Notting Hill and cries at the end of the Notebook. Looking at the stern man in front of him, it was hard to overlap the two personas. It was even harder to imagine this man turning into the terrifying monstrosity that would one day be known as Reaper. 

Hanzo must have stared too long, causing Reyes to raise an eyebrow at the scrutiny he was being given. Hanzo looked down at his lap, letting his hair fall to obscure his face. He knew he was a terrible liar – it was best to avoid eye contact and hope that Reyes would not be able to see his expressions. 

“My brother has always been kind-hearted,” he said and pausing for dramatic effect before continuing. “He never had the stomach for killing – always skipping his duties, hiding in bars, partying until the early hours of the morning. And my father allowed him to do so.” 

At least that part had all been true. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He tried to put on what he hoped was an expression of pain. Then again, Jesse had always said he ‘couldn’t act for shit’. 

“After my father passed, the clan elders ordered me to either rein Genji in or kill him. But I could not bring myself to do it – so we ran.” 

Hanzo was glad he decided to close his eyes. Even know as he was uttering his words he could feel the guilt coursing through him – his eyes would have betrayed him in a second. When he felt the guilt subside, he cracked open his eyes to see if Reyes had bought it. 

Reyes’ stony expression betrayed nothing. 

“So, what now?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What’s your plan, big guy?”

Should he offer to join Blackwatch – would that be too forward? No, he should let Reyes make the offer. His eagerness might make Reyes suspicious and could cause problems further down the track. Perhaps he should set himself up as a good candidate for Blackwatch – feed Reyes the information he wanted to hear. 

Suddenly a thought occurred to him – what if Reyes wanted to recruit Genji too? Hanzo suddenly felt sick. This was not the life Hanzo wanted for Genji. It had only been a few hours ago that Genji had been raving about wanting to travel the world. He did not want his brother to swap being imprisoned by the Shimada Clan for Blackwatch instead. With his mind made he steeled himself for the upcoming events. 

“Let Genji go and I will help you take down the Shimada Clan,” he offered, looking Reyes straight in the eyes. 

He saw Reyes’ eyebrows fly up, disappearing underneath his black beanie. 

“Now tell me,” Reyes drawled, leaning back into his chair and picking at his nails. “Why would I do that?”

“Genji lacks the discipline and disposition for what you require,” Hanzo reasoned. When Reyes still looked bored Hanzo decided a more drastic route was needed. He leaned forward so that he could make sure Reyes’ full attention was on him. “If you keep him here, I will devote every waking effort to escaping with him. Let him go and I can devote that energy to helping you take down the Shimada empire.” 

“So, in other words, you work your little butt off for me and in return I let your brother go free? Is that the deal you’re making me?” Reyes drawled still sounding bored. 

Hanzo blinked in shock – nearly laughing at his own stupidity. Reyes never intended to recruit Genji – he was just a bargaining chip against Hanzo. Something to dangle over him in order to make him behave. From the start, Reyes had wanted Hanzo to be the one to suggest the offer – make him own his decision. People are more likely to commit to a decision if they think they were the ones to make it, Jesse had explained to him once, rolling a cigar in between his fingers. Despite knowing the future, he had still played cleanly into Reyes’ hand. He would have to be more careful around this man in the future. 

“Yes, that is what I’m saying,” he replied. 

Reyes hummed. 

Hanzo had to applaud him for his commitment to the role. Even after clearly getting what he wanted, he was still pretending to contemplate Hanzo’s offer. Finally, he stopped, eyes snapping to meet Hanzo’s. 

“Here’s the deal. You work for me – that includes giving intel, going on missions, both Shimada related and non-Shimada related. You do what I say without question – you work for me and _only_ for me – and in exchange, I’ll let your brother go.” 

Hanzo wondered why Reyes felt the need to stress that Hanzo’s loyalty should lie only with him and filed that note to ponder on later. 

“I want to be paid.”

This time Hanzo saw Reyes’ eyebrows fly up in genuine surprise. He opened his mouth and Hanzo raced to cut him off before he could protest. 

“It is for Genji – I want him to be financially supported.” 

Reyes paused before sighing and collapsing in his chair, rubbing at his temples. Hanzo guessed he had won that round. 

“Any other demands, princess?” Reyes huffed, standing up and adjusting his beanie. 

“I want you to make me a bow that I can use in combat.”

He expected Reyes to protest or to snap at him, but instead what he got was full blown laughter. Hanzo watched befuddled as Reyes howled, bending over backwards and forwards as he repeatedly slapped his knee. Hanzo could not see what was so funny. Finally, Reyes’ laughter died down to a slow chuckle. 

“Didn’t think you would have a sense of humour in you, kid,” he said, wiping away tears of mirth from his eyes, still chuckling a bit. 

When he saw Hanzo’s expression he stopped. 

“Wait you’re fucking serious?” he exclaimed. “I thought you were using that fucking ancient thing because you had nothing else!”

“I work better with a bow,” Hanzo shrugged.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Reyes said giving an exasperated sigh and rubbing his face. “It’s the twenty first century….”

“Learn how to fucking shoot a gun.” 

\---------------

Hanzo sighed as he waited patiently for the verdict. Reyes had left hours ago, muttering something about how he should have gone for the sword wielding brother instead. Dr Lewis had returned a while ago with a few ration bars – apologising for the meagre meal. She explained that she wasn’t allowed to let him out of the hand cuffs and thought he wouldn’t appreciate being hand fed. Hanzo had thanked her for her consideration and tore through the ration bars. At least she seemed confident that he would be freed soon, remarking that today was Taco Tuesday – so he had that to look forward to. 

Hanzo sat up in alert as he saw the curtains being pushed open, followed by something pink being lobbed at his face. Hanzo flinched, bracing for pain but instead found the object to be soft and cottony. Hanzo shook his head to dislodge the fabric. 

He was entirely unprepared for the sight that followed. 

Jesse McCree, in the flesh, standing in front of him. Except that it was not – it was all wrong. Instead of the soft earthy tones Hanzo usually associated with Jesse, this McCree was dressed in black with harsh red accents. Gone was his gaudy BAMF buckle, instead it was replaced with gold buckle featuring a skull with an eyepatch surrounded by wings. The serape had been replaced as well – in its place was a black…? Hanzo wasn’t quite sure how to describe it, but the closest word that came to mind was cape. He was younger as well. Less shaggy and more clean-cut. Most noticeably, instead of his prosthetic, his left arm was entirely flesh – a tattoo sat on his forearm but Hanzo was too far away to discern what it was. 

The biggest difference was perhaps in the man’s demeanour. Instead of the easy-going smile that usually sat on the cowboy’s face, this man wore a meaner and grimmer expression. Hanzo noted guiltily that his right arm was still in a sling as well. 

“Remember me?” McCree drawled, voice laced with annoyance, tapping over the spot that Hanzo had shot him. 

He frowned. He did not have the energy or stamina to deal with this Jesse not Jesse. 

“You took out quite a few of our guys as well,” McCree continued, determined to get a reaction, as he fully pushed back the curtains – revealing the rest of the room. 

When he got none, McCree grunted and pointed at the pink pile on top of Hanzo’s chest. 

“Get changed, Reyes wants to see you – unless you wanna walk the halls in a backless gown that is,” he taunted, giving a lecherous grin. 

Hanzo stared back balefully. He was getting too old for this pettiness. The lecherous grin faded as he saw McCree began to lose confidence under Hanzo’s stare. All bark and no bite then, Hanzo decided, stealing one of Jesse’s sayings. 

The first-time Jesse had given Hanzo a lecherous grin, he had flushed all the way to his chest causing Jesse to tease him mercilessly. It had become a game from there, Jesse would leer at Hanzo and Hanzo would try his hardest to not react. He had years of practice under his belt – McCree had nothing on him. 

“The bathrooms that way,” McCree muttered jerking his head to a door on the right as he bent down to undo Hanzo’s cuffs. “Don’t think about running either.” 

When the last cuff fell away, McCree withdrew and plopped himself on the plastic chair that Reyes had left behind. 

“Whenever yer ready, your highness,” McCree remarked, taking of his hat and using it to gesture sarcastically to the bathroom in a mock bow. 

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed – part of him wanted to take this McCree down a peg. He was just so arrogant and smug. So, Hanzo took his time. He slowly raised his arms, carefully inspecting each wrist for damage. Apart from some redness and superficial chaffing they seemed to fine. Then, he folded his covers down and drew his knees to his chest so that he could free his feet. He knew this motion would cause his gown to ride up and smirked when he heard a sharp intake of breath. Next, he lifted one leg and gently rolled his ankle to loosen up the joint. 

Hanzo remembered that Jesse had admitted to having a thing for slender ankles and feet often asked Hanzo to keep his prosthetics on in bed. Hanzo was not embarrassed to admit that his flesh ones were just as slender as his prosthetics had been. 

He repeated the same motion with his other leg, before deciding that he had tortured McCree enough for one day and sauntered towards the bathroom. Not being able to resist, he took one glance backward to see if his show had the intended effect. 

McCree was staring, his face turning a deep red colour. 

Hanzo smirked when McCree realised he had been caught staring. He turned an even darker shade or red and buried his face into his hat, groaning. 

At least some things didn’t change. 

\-------------------

“You’re late,” Reyes growled from behind his desk. 

“It’s not my fault he decided to take a shower!”

“And you had no way of stopping him?”

He smirked as the pair continue to bicker with McCree mumble something that sounded suspiciously like ‘but he was naked’ in protest. 

As soon as he had entered the bathroom and saw that there was a shower, he decided he was not going to leave until he had had one. The feeling of being clean was a feeling that he had sorely missed. He could not remember the last time he had taken a hot shower. Once he had scrubbed himself clean, McCree had blind-folded and given him a pair of ear-muffs for the journey to Reyes’ office. He had ‘accidentally’ walked him into a few walls on the way over which Hanzo supposed was his way of getting even – as childish as it was. 

A delicate cough resounded through the room. 

“Shall we begin?” the man asked, setting down a stack of paper in front of Hanzo. “My name is Staffan Bengt and I will be overseeing the legal proceedings today. 

Hanzo nodded. Begnt was a tall man with a lithe stature. He had plain features and was for lack of a better word – forgettable. 

“Listen up, princess,” Reyes began, “I’ve had a long day and I’m only going to go through this once.” 

“He will go through this as many times as you need until you feel you have understood what the contract entails,” Begnt interjected. 

Reyes glared at him. 

“This is a standard eight-year service contract. After eight-years you’re free to go – the only exception to this is if you fail to bring down the Shimada clan during that time. Then we will renew your contract every year until that time comes.” 

Hanzo nodded – he could see how this clause could be exploited to force him to extend his service, however he found that he did not care at this point. 

“This is your annual salary,” he continued pointing to a figure – it was much more than Hanzo expected, “and you will be paid bi-weekly into your personal account. From there you can wire whatever amount you want to your brother. If you die, everything in your account goes to Genji as well as two years of pay as compensation.” 

Hanzo nodded again. 

“Genji will be released when he is discharged from hospital, where he will be dropped off somewhere in the city – from there he can go wherever he likes. We’ve also taken the liberty to create a new identity for him – because I’m nice like that.”

Reyes took a deep breath and continued. 

“We’ll set up an arrangement for him to meet with an operative once every fortnight to check in. The operative will hand him a comm and so you guys can have a heart to heart once a week and so you can know that he’s still alive. This call will of course be monitored at all times – all this of course is your job to convince him to do. We’re just providing the means.” 

Hanzo nodded. He knew that Reyes was selling this to from an angle of protection for his brother, but he knew Reyes’ other purpose was to keep Genji on a tight leash to make sure in case he needed leverage. 

“During the time of your contract, you are forbidden to make any contact with any associate from your previous life – barring Genji, without my explicit permission. That includes friends, family and lovers.” 

Reyes paused, glancing up at Hanzo as if he was expecting something. When Hanzo didn’t react he continued. 

“Last thing you need to know is this – you are required to wear this tracking anklet at all times,” Reyes explained, reaching into his draw and taking out a slim black object. “This anklet has an inbuilt GPS, and if you so much as take a step out of the parameters I have set for this thing, it will inject a poison into you faster than you can say ‘mom’. Same if you try to damage it or take it off.” 

“What if it gets damaged in battle?” Hanzo asked, eyeing the anklet with trepidation. 

“Well then, I guess you best be damned careful,” Reyes retorted sarcastically. 

“And my bow?”

Reyes snorted. 

“We’ve wasted enough money on you already. Show me that you’re worth it and then we’ll talk about the bow.” 

Hanzo nodded – given his previous reaction in the infirmary, Hanzo was not surprised at all. 

“Are there any questions, Mr Shimada?” Begnt asked. 

Hanzo shook his head. 

“Well then, we can give you a few minutes to read over the contract to make sure everything we have discussed is included. After you sign, we’ll place the anklet on and your service will begin.” 

"Well then, Mr Shimada," Reyes said grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Welcome to Blackwatch."

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted a young McHanzo fic and I will do anything to get it.


End file.
